


Feeding The Soul

by jessschlinky



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Castiel and Dean Winchester are Neighbors, Divorce, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Mpreg, Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, Russian Castiel, Single Parent Dean Winchester, pre-destiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-04-29 04:18:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14464845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessschlinky/pseuds/jessschlinky
Summary: (Based on a Prompt)Dean Winchester is hungry.  Pregnant and hungry, and a grilled cheese sandwich is just not going to satisfy.  Smelling something painfully yummy coming from his neighbor's kitchen, he gives into the craving and goes to ask for a plate of food.  His neighbor, a Russian immigrant named Castiel, is more than happy to give him a sample.  Dean has no one to rely on in this world - his ex-husband didn't want anything to do with the baby, his brother and he are estranged, his parents are dead.  Could this odd, kind man next door be the friend Dean needs in his life?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a prompt on the Destiel Port Facebook page about a man feeding his pregnant neighbor. The thought of pregnant Dean getting to know his Russian neighbor Castiel just wouldn't leave me alone. So, far all the folks that wanted it, here it is!

The duplex apartment was coming along nicely, if Dean Winchester did say so himself. It was a small affair – a one bedroom that had an office attached. Dean had converted that office into a nursery – it was just big enough for a crib, changing table, and rocking chair. It was on the first floor; with both a front door and a back door that lead out into the shared garden from his kitchen. Dean had wanted to repaint the place, but as it was just him doing all the work and paint was not healthy for a pregnant person, he simply had to wait.

Dean rubbed his fat, huge belly bump, sniggering when the baby decided to kick most viciously at his palm. His stomach rumbled and the baby did a flip to concur – it was time for some lunch. Dean waddled over to the fridge, still rubbing his belly as he opened it. The contents were...disappointing. It was two days til payday, and Dean was done to a small selection of crap foods. He glared at the last of his apples – they were just a hint off color and obviously ready to go into the bin. He picked up a limp head of lettuce – yup, that went into the bin as well. There was cheese, butter, bread – grilled cheese wouldn't be bad. Not great, but not bad. He had some tomato soup in the cabinet too. Dean grabbed the can, grabbed the grilled cheese making, and found himself smiling a bit.

Tomato soup with rice, and grilled cheese. The same meal his Mom always made when he was sick. The same meal he made Sammy when the kid got sick. Thoughts of Sammy made his throat close, made his eyes sting. He hoped the kid was doing good out in California. Hoped he had found someone nice, gotten married maybe, got that law degree. He hadn't seen his kid brother in about ten years now. They had a falling out – the kind you just didn't come back from. Sammy hadn't even come back when their Dad had been killed in the accident. Dean missed his brother, but he accepted his choices. Maybe...maybe Sammy would call when Dean sent him pictures of the baby.

His stomach growled again, reminding him that he was supposed to be cooking. He put the soup in a pot and set it on the stove, then went about heating his skillet and getting the sandwich assembled. He paused in mid butter, taking a deep breath of the suddenly delicious scent came wafting in to his kitchen. He stepped over to the vent that connected his kitchen to his neighbor's. He took a deep breath, the baby giving an enthused kick at it. Whatever his quiet, studious neighbor was cooking smelt like heaven. Dean's stomach rumbled audibly, his baby giving a shift and a shove that demanded a taste of whatever that yummy concoction was. Dean looked back at his now definitely not so appealing soup and half made grilled cheese. Dean took a deep sigh, the baby giving another kick of defiance.

He didn't really know his neighbor. He seemed nice enough – just a little shy. The other man was an immigrant – a Russian who came over to the U.S. on some academic visa. He was teaching Russian Mythology or something like that at the local university. His name was Castiel...something long and Russian and hard to pronounce. That was the whole of what Dean knew about him. Oh. And he had a pet cat that sometimes got out and liked to lounge on Dean's patio chair set. The cat was cool; a lazy tom cat with long, ginger fur and only one eye.

The baby kicked and fussed again. Dean groaned – the grilled cheese and soup was definitely not going to do it now. The smell from next door was stronger; thicker and beautiful and so friggin' yummy. Dean hadn't had a good meal since...since...

Dean reached up, touching his cheek. The bruises had healed, but he still remembered the way Michael's fists came down over and over and over again.

“How could you be so stupid?” Michael had raged, the dinner he had cooked them splattered across the floor. “A baby, Dean? A baby? I don't want kids! I don't want the responsibility!” he had snarled, grabbing Dean by the collar. The first smack across his cheek was open palmed, stinging Dean's pride more than his skin. “Is it even mine? Do you even know who knocked you up?”

And he had punched Dean, right in the face. Over and over and over again. When he tried to land a kick to Dean's still flat belly, Dean had finally fought back. Years of sneering words, years of Michael landing hits where he was sure no one would see, years of Dean lying and covering for his soon to be ex-husband – years of Dean's life wasted. He had taken it all, felt he deserved it all – Michael was so smart and Dean was just...stupid. Michael was a successful doctor, while Dean was just a mechanic. Dean was a no one, while Michael was someone. Dean had taken the abuse for so very long, because he felt he deserved it all. But his baby...his baby didn't deserve it. His baby was innocent. Beautiful.

Someone worth protecting.

So Dean had fought back. He had kicked Michael's feet from underneath him. His years of kickboxing and former life as a bail-bondsman came back in a rush. He had taken Michael down, had knocked him out with a single, well landed blow. Then he had grabbed a bag, filled it, emptied his measly bank account, and run to the one person that could help him escape – Bobby Singer; Dean's boss and second father.

Bobby had given him more money, created a whole new identity for Dean (“Dean Smith”), and set him up with a new job in a garage across the country. Dean was working for an old friend of Bobby's; Rufus Turner. Rufus was just as surly, just as grumpy, and just as protective as Bobby. Dean fully planned on naming Rufus the Godfather to his kiddo, seeing as Bobby would be put down as the grandfather.

But anyway, yeah. That dinner – the one Michael had made as an apology for smacking Dean the day before – that had been the last really good meal Dean had. It wasn't that Dean couldn't cook; he could cook like crazy; he just wasn't into cooking right now. It took inspiration, enthusiasm...energy. It took all of Dean's energy to just get up and go to work. He blamed the little vampire growing in his belly; he studiously ignored his depression, as he just wasn't feeling like facing it.

The smell from next door came on stronger. It was like the neighbor was holding a fan straight to the vent, as if he was trying to drive Dean crazy from the yumminess. Dean sighed, defeated when the baby gave another demanding kick.

“Fine, you little fucker. You win,” Dean groused, going to his cupboard. He grabbed the smallest damn plate he had – he had food. He wasn't going to go begging for a meal. He just...wanted a sample. Just something to get the gremlin in his belly to settle the fuck down. Dean sighed, his shoulders slumping as he went to the back door. He squared up his shoulders before he made the four foot walk to his neighbor's door, giving a polite knock. To say his chest was tight and his nerves dancing would be a painful understatement.

The door opened, that wonderful smell hitting Dean full force. “Yes? Can I help?” the painfully attractive man before him asked, looking at Dean curiously.

Dean found his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. His neighbor was wearing a button up shirt that was completely unbuttoned, leaving his chest and stomach naked for the world to see. He was wearing beach shorts, with those cheap plastic flip flops you could get anywhere on his equally naked feet. He looked sinfully good, and Dean felt a hunger that had nothing to do with food rise up into him. Until the food smell hit him again and baby reminded him of why he was there in the first place.

“I, uh,” Dean began, clearing his throat. “Hi. I'm your neighbor...obviously. I am also pregnant...obviously,” he chuckled nervously, looking at his seven month large belly. “Is there...any chance...I could have just...ya know, just a little of whatever you're cooking?” he asked, wincing at how pathetic he sounded. “Pregnancy cravings and all that?”

Castiel perked up immediately, nodding enthusiastically. “Of course, of course!” he said, taking the plate and motioning for Dean to follow him inside. The fat, one eyed ball of fur that was supposedly a cat was laying across a chair at the table, letting out a yawn at the sight of Dean. Castiel took the little plate, giving it a concerned look, then giving the same, squinting expression of worry to Dean.

“I have lunch already made,” Dean explained, feeling his cheeks flush. “I just wanted a little of whatever you're making to go with my soup and sandwich.”

Castiel nodded, then looked concerned again. “Soup and sandwich not good for growing baby,” he admonished quietly. “I make this meal for my sister when she was pregnant with my nephew. You need hearty foods – not just soup and sandwich.” As he gave this speech, Castiel overfilled the little plate. “This is _priozhki_ – meat pie. Is filled with lamb, cabbage, egg, potato, cheese. Crust is sweet – like pastry. They are savory and sweet – very filling, very good for baby.” He held the plate up for Dean to see. “Is important for Papa to know what he is feeding baby, yes?” He gave Dean a heart stopping grin – all gums and very white teeth. “These are _blini_ – Russian pancakes. They are very sweet, but the toppings are savory. Sweet and savory – put weight on you and baby. Good. Crepe is made from flour, egg, milk, sugar, salt. Wholesome ingredients, yes? Filling is buckwheat, smoked salmon, mushrooms, sour cream, blackberry jam, condensed milk. Also wholesome. Topping is red salmon caviar. I give you big helpings even though plate is small.”

Castiel brought him back the plate, looking proud. “Come back for seconds, yes?”

Dean took the plate, feeling his tongue tingle and mouth water at the sight of all the yumminess. “Sure. Thank you,” he rushed, almost running out and back to his kitchen. The Russian waved at him as he went back into his home, chuckling when Dean waved back, a blini already in his mouth.

“Ohmigawd,” Dean moaned around the first bite, whimpering at the lovely flavor that flooded his taste-buds. The _blini_ was the perfect blend of sweet and salty, satisfying all the cravings his little one had been sending his way. He finished the first of five _blinis_ on his tiny plate – it was a mountain of food that would have filled Dean before the pregnancy – then he bit into the perfection that was _priozhki_. The meat pie (two of Dean's favorite things right there; meat and pie) made Dean literally keen from pleasure. The sweet crust was the most delicious thing Dean had ever put in his mouth. The thick, delicious inner mash of lamb and egg was more than he could have wished for. 

Too soon the heavenly plate of food was gone. Dean whimpered, the baby and him both still craving more. There was some sauce on the edge of the plate, and Dean was not so proud as to let it go to waste. He licked it off with enthusiasm, disappointed again when he finished it off.

He was still starving after his appetizer, wishing he wasn't so damn proud. He would love a second helping, but the thought of going next door again, asking for more; even though Castiel had so kindly offered; was more than he could take. He looked to his stove, where his soup was now bubbling, his half assembled grilled cheese waiting The thought of following up such wonderful fare with something so plain and boring was just heartbreaking. Dean stood up, rubbing his belly as he wrestled with his pride and the growing hunger in his painfully empty stomach.

There came a tapping at the window beside his back door. Dean turned around, somehow not surprised to see his ridiculously attractive neighbor. Castiel held up a casserole dish filled to the brim with _priozhki_ and _blini_. Castiel gave him another one of those heart stopping grins, his stunningly blue eyes crinkling with it. “I bring you more, yes?” Castiel said, his voice muffled by the closed window.

Dean smiled shyly, opening the door. Castiel came in, the orange cat following at his heels. “Thank you. I was about to come ask for more.”

“No you were not,” Castiel said matter-of-factly. “You have pride, I see this.” Castiel looked around the kitchen, his brow furrowed. “Walls need painting,” he said in that same tone, eyeing the white patches amungst the neutral tone of the kitchen. “I have paint from when I paint my own rooms. All rooms like this, Dean?”

Dean was surprised Castiel knew his name, but found himself nodding. “I don't have anyone to ask for help, and I can't do it myself for obvious reasons.”

Castiel nodded, popping the dish into the oven to warm it. He also turned off the soup and tossed it and the sandwich stuff into the trash. He looked in the fridge, squinting as he looked at Dean again. “I bring you groceries when I bring paint. I paint your rooms. You sit outside and enjoy sun. Watch movies on your laptop. I see you on patio with your laptop sometimes.”

Dean stood there, stunned. Castiel pulled the food out a moment later, then grabbed a bigger plate from Dean's cupboard. He made a heaping plate, taking Dean's arm. “Outside. Eat on patio. Sunlight good for you and baby. Is boy or girl?”

“Girl,” Dean said, taking a stunned seat as Castiel put the plate before him. Castiel went inside, grabbed a bottle of water, and put it before Dean. “Really, you don't need to paint my apartment. I appreciate it, but – ”

“I will paint. You will sit. I have extra foods,” Castiel said in his no nonsense way, leaving Dean no choice as he went back to his own rooms, the cat not following. The cat, instead, leapt up to sit on the chair nearest Dean. Castiel returned with bags full of food, stocking them into the fridge and cupboards. He then went back to rooms, then returned with cans of paint. “I have blues, greens, red, yellows,” he said, pointing to each set of cans. “I open cans here – away from you and baby – and show you lids. You pick, you tell me what color goes where. I paint kitchen today. Baby room tomorrow. Living room next day. Your room day after that. Pick each color you like for each room. I also bring fans to clear fumes, yes?”

So Dean found himself picking colors. Green for the kitchen, blue for the living room and his bed room, the calm yellow for the baby's room. Castiel nodded, then went back to his rooms. He came back with plastic sheeting for the floors and furniture, and lots of different shaped fans. He was also now totally shirtless, revealing well toned arms, with broad shoulders, and the most beautiful tattoo of angel wings that spanned across them and down his arms. Dean sat on his patio, eating the tastiest meal he had quite possibly ever eaten, while a sinfully beautiful man painted his kitchen for him. It was the easiest and most satisfying Sunday of Dean's life, he decided, smiling as he drank his cold bottle of water.

Dean just sat and enjoyed his day, his swollen feet thankful for the reprieve. He watched movies on his laptop, read Facebook posts on his phone. The cat demanded petting every now and again, but was good company. Castiel hummed tunelessly as he painted the kitchen, coming outside for fresh air every now and again. He finished the kitchen in record time, setting up the fans again. “Come to my rooms, yes? Cool off and watch television while rooms clear up.”

Dean found himself following without question, oddly at ease with his neighbor. Castiel stopped in his own kitchen – it was the same green that Dean had picked – to wash the paint from his hands. Dean had only ever seen the kitchen, smiling when he found the yellow that would be in his baby's room in Castiel's living room. It was nice; soothing even. Castiel motioned for Dean to take the couch, clicking his tongue when Dean took a seat. “Shoes off. Lean back and relax.” So Dean did, feeling stupidly excited when Castiel put a DVD of Dr. Sexy, MD on.

“You like Doctor Sexy?” Dean asked, barely able to contain his excitement.

Surprisingly, Castiel began to blush. “I had not seen this show until you moved in,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck as he took a seat on the recliner beside the couch. “I was working on flowerbed in front yard – the bed by your door one day and you are watching this. I stop to listen, as the story is interesting. I find that I wanted to know what happened next, so I went to store and bought this set.”

Dean grinned, nodding. “It's addicting. Who's your favorite character?”

“I like the Dr. Piccolo,” Castiel said, looking thoughtful. “She is passionate and good doctor.”

“She's pretty attractive, too,” Dean added.

“She is beautiful lady, yes,” Castiel said, blushing again. “But I find, when it comes to attractiveness, Dr. Sexy is more beautiful.”

Dean sniggered. “Yeah, he's hot.”

Castiel began to twist his fingers in his lap, his expression one that was trying to be casual and failing. “You are single, yes? Divorced, maybe?”

Dean bit his lower lip and nodded. “My ex-husband didn't want a baby, so when I got pregnant, I left.” He liked Castiel, but he didn't know him well enough to go into the dirty details of what happened to his imploding marriage.

“I was married once too,” Castiel said, clearing his throat. “I married him when I was very young. He was good man I thought. Handsome and brave and successful. He was good man, maybe, but bad husband. He did not want me to be having friends. He did not want me to be having family. I ran away. My sister married American, came to America. I follow her to get away from him. I am much happier now.” He gave Dean that wide, beautiful grin. “I am thinking sometimes good men make bad husbands, yes?”

Dean nodded, looking down at his huge belly. “Well I got the best part of the deal. I'm single, I'm about to be a dad, and I don't have to deal with good men that are bad husbands.”

Castiel nodded, looking shy again. “I saw you first day you moved in. I saw bruises on your face. I will not ask about them, but I did see. I will make sure bad husband will not come here, yes?” Castiel cleared his throat, looking shyly at Dean again, before back to his lap.

Dean smiled again, shrugging. “Thanks for that, Cas.”

Castiel flushed happily. “I can make dinner for you too, everyday. I like cooking. It is easier to make big meals.”

Dean felt something warm and heavy settle in his stomach. "So, that meal you made? You said you used to make it for your sister. You just happened to be making it today?" Dean asked, hope flickering his chest.

Castiel twisted his fingers again, looking down hard at them. "I find I must confess. I see you coming in and out of your rooms every day. You are growing bigger and bigger and I figure out you are with baby. I see the little bags of groceries your bring from your car. I find...I find that I want to make good foods for you. But I am not knowing you. I am nervous to say something. But today...today I hear you fussing in your kitchen. I hear you complaining at the sandwich. I...I decide to make you these foods. I decide to bring it to you. But then," Castiel swallowed, giving Dean the most earnest look. "But then you come to my door. And I get to feed you. I get to talk with you. I am...I am glad you came. I am too shy to say anything until now. I am...am thinking you are very beautiful. I am...afraid you will not want to be friends."

Dean swallowed, licking his lips. "I...I want to be friends, Cas."

Castiel smiled shyly, nodding. "I am glad of this. I am...liking to feed you, Dean.

Dean felt his own shy smile widen. “Thanks, Cas.”

Castiel turned that thousand watt smile to Dean. “I am truly glad to be making friends with you, Dean.”

Dean smiled bigger, nodding. “I'm glad to be making friends with you, too, Cas.”

Castiel's smile lit up the room, lit up Dean's soul. It was too early to be falling in love, and Dean wasn't going to delude himself with thinking this was going anywhere. But it was nice to be around someone kind, someone that looked at Dean as if he was worthy of being looked at and looked after.

It was friendship for sure, but maybe one day...maybe one day it could turn into something more. Something beautiful.

Something his.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been....awhile. I'm terribly sorry. Depression, work changes, just life in general made me not want to write. But here I am, at last, with a follow up chapter. I do hope y'all enjoy. And thank you so much for continuing to love this story.

“I find this for Baby Girl,” Castiel said as he pushed open the door, dragging a giant teddy bear behind him. The Russian man was looking very determined, his cheeks slightly flushed as he lifted the truly huge bear and waddled his way towards the nursery.

“Another bear?” Dean asked in amusement, waddling after his neighbor and friend. Now in his ninth month, Dean felt as though he had swallowed a planet. His ankles were swollen, his stomach was so big it was in a different time zone, his hands were stiff and also swollen. Pregnancy stunk, but at least he had his friend, Castiel Krushnic, to keep him smiling.

The small, formerly bare nursery was alive with teddy bears. There were small ones lining the shelves Castiel had put up the month before. There were paintings of teddy bears on the yellow walls that Castiel had painted the month before that. There were medium sized bears around the rocking chair. Bear patterns on the crib bedding. Bears on the mobile lazily turning above the crib. Bear themed curtains on the windows. Castiel, it turned it, really liked teddy bears.

“I found at thrift store,” Castiel said. That was always his excuse – he would go to the thrift store to get new work clothes or new-to-him pots and pans...only to return with tons and tons of bears. “It was reasonable to buy.”

“It's bigger than the nursery,” Dean teased, smiling as he rubbed his belly, watching Castiel look from corner to corner of the room until he settled on a spot. He moved the changing table a few feet to the left, picked up a basket of bears, and sat the huge bear on the floor. He then glared at the bear, muttering under his breath.

“I will return,” Castiel said sharply, pausing as he stormed passed to pressing an affectionate hand to Dean's belly. “ _Malyshka_ ,” he purred. Castiel had told him that it meant “Baby Girl” - the nickname Castiel had given the baby. Dean hadn't decided on a name yet, though he had a nice list. He thought he would know when he held her for the first time. Castiel continued on his way, the imprint of his hand leaving a slow burn of desire broiling under Dean's skin.

Their friendship was just that – a wonderful, platonic friendship. Dean was interested in more, he knew Castiel was interested in more, yet neither of them could seem to take that next step into...more. Dean was gun shy – he had been in a longtime, truly horrible marriage full of abuse; mental and emotional. The little bit he knew of Castiel's previous marriage seemed much the same. “Bartholomew was charismatic,” Castiel had said one night, “he was charming. He was handsome. He was good man. Until he got too deep into bottle.” Castiel had absentmindedly rubbed his jaw then, a haunted look in his blue eyes. Dean knew that look. He saw it in the mirror every time he thought about Michael.

So, two months into their friendship, and they had done nothing more than a friendly clap to the shoulder, a steadying hand on the arm, a warm pat to Dean's belly. Dean was frustrated, but he understood. He was scared, anyway. Too scared to act. Too scared to possibly ruin the best friendship he had ever had.

Castiel returned just as Dean's thoughts were spiraling to their end. He was carrying a bar stool; one Dean recognized from Castiel's own kitchen. He put the stool in the corner and placed the mammoth bear on it. Castiel said something affirmative in Russian – he seemed to like the placing. He then took the basket of bears and placed each bear around and in the crib.

The whole room looked like something out of the Teddy Bear's Picnic. Dean found himself really liking it.

The baby gave a mighty kick, making Dean wince, then chuckle. “ _Malyshka_ is wanting attention?” Castiel chuckled coming over to put his hand over the bump. “Hello _Malyshka_. Uncle Dmitri is here to love on you and your Papa.”

That had been a surprise. Dean knew that Castiel was not his real name – like Dean, he had changed it after leaving Moscow. His real name was Dmitri Tippens; the son of a Russian diplomat and an American Senator. How that had happened Dean would probably never know. Castiel was his middle name; his third middle name it turned out. Both names suited the dark, quiet man, and Dean could easily imagine moaning both while Castiel helpfully bent him over a chair and fucked him stupid.

Pregnancy libido was a gift from Satan, Dean was sure.

“I bought that show you spoke of,” Castiel said, his hand still on Dean's belly while he looked up to meet Dean's eyes. “ _Firefly_. I bought it to watch with you.”

Dean felt his heart stutter, felt his face break into a smile. “You are way too perfect to be my friend, Cas.”

Castiel's hand tightened against his belly, his wide eyes so earnest and sincere. “You are perfect, Dean. All perfect.”

Dean swallowed, licking his lips. Castiel watched his tongue flicker out, his own mimicking the action. Dean felt that wonderful arousal burn at him again, felt like squirming under Castiel's gaze.

“I am wanting to kiss you very much, Dean,” Castiel said softly, his voice a low murmur that made Dean shiver.

“I am wanting you to kiss me, Cas. Very much,” Dean said, swallowing around his suddenly too big tongue.

Cas hummed absentmindedly, leaning in to brush his lips ever so softly against Dean's. Baby Girl kicked just as their lips touched, doing happy flutters against her Papa's ribs. Dean moaned, parting his lips just so when Castiel's tongue brushed against them. Cas was just deepening the kiss, just pressing a little closer...

When the first contraction hit. Dean gasped, his knees almost buckling. Baby Girl had gone still, the muscles in Dean's abdomen began to spasm and move Baby Girl down towards the birth canal. Dean whimpered, gripping Cas's arms a little too tightly.

Cas instantly pulled back, his eyes wide. “ _Malyshka_ is coming, yes?” he asked, nodding when Dean nodded. “Right. _Malyshka_ is coming. Oh dear. Yes. To my car now.” Castiel helped Dean out to his old Continental (Dean had teased him mercilessly about it when he finally got to know his neighbor better), then ran back into Dean's rooms to grab his overnight bag. Castiel used his copy of Dean's house key to lock up both doors, then quickly checked his own. Dean winced, holding his belly as the labor pains kicked in full force again.

Cas hopped into the car, revving it to life. “I will make all best foods for you when _Malyshka_ comes, Dean,” Cas said happily, peeling out onto the street without pause. A car that had been coming up on them blared its horn, making Dean wince again. “I will make every best thing I can think of. I will give you sweets and savories and then I think I will kiss you again.”

Dean's heart fluttered, his cheeks flushing as another contraction hit. “I won't get another kiss until I've had the baby and you've fed me?” he teased, ignoring the pain.

Cas seemed to think on this. “No. I will kiss you before then. I misspoke.”

Dean chuckled breathlessly, crying out when an even bigger contraction hit. “Oh boy. _Malyshka_ is ready to be born. Very eager.”

“She wants to be born so she can grow and eat my food,” Cas said wisely, giving Dean a cheeky grin. 

“Not everything is about food, Cas,” Dean said, the easy banter lulling him into calm.

“Says the man that eats three helpings of everything I cook,” Cas replied as they pulled into the hospital ER bay.

“I'm pregnant,” Dean countered as Cas climbed out of the car.

“You will still eat three helpings after _Malyshka_ is born,” Cas said with certainty, smiling as he closed the door. “I will come back with nurses and wheelchair.”

Dean nodded, watching out the open window as Cas jogged into the doors. More over, he watched Cas's ass as he jogged in the door. That ass was a gift from God, for sure.

Another contraction hit – it was deep and long and yep, time to have the baby. Dean cried out, wincing as the pain tore through him. He was just taking some deep, calming breath when Cas appeared again, a slew of nurses and a wheelchair with him.

Male pregnancies were delicate things. Dean was in the minority that managed to keep his pregnancy all the way thru to the ninth month. Most males who became pregnant delivered in the eighth – even some seventh – months. The longer the baby stayed in, the better for the child. But the truth was, the male body was not made for pregnancy. The newly awakened gene that had come up in Dean's age group and those younger than him that allowed for male pregnancies had made the process possible; but the pregnancies were usually high risk, and often ended with either a still born child or dead birth father.

Dean was truly lucky. His pregnancy had been text book. Easy even. But still, it would require a group of highly trained nurses, technicians, and the best doctors. The baby should be born by C Section – it was always the preferred delivery when it came to male pregnancies; as the male birth canal was usually under-formed and could end up with the father having ruptures and internal bleeding. But again, Dean was lucky. His body had adapted beautifully to pregnancy, his birth canal enviously perfect.

“It's so damn perfect, most women would kill to have something like that in their reproductive system,” Dean's doctor, Pam Barnes, had told him one day. “Natural birth should be a-OK for you, Deano. Your recovery time will be much less, and any other kiddos you decide to pop out will be easier on your body, too.”

So Dean had opted with natural birth. Natural birth with lots of drugs – all the drugs. Dean was rushed into the chair, then given the VIP treatment straight to Labor and Delivery. Cas was allowed in, as he was listed as Dean's Birthing Partner – something Castiel had been honored to be chosen as. Cas had been enthusiastic about going to lamaze class, had told everyone he met (with a great deal of pride) that he would be there to help Dean coach on through it.

Dr. Barnes was not working that shift, but she was on her way in just the same. Dean hoped _Malyshka_ could wait long enough for her to get there – he didn't want to give birth with some random OB Doc he didn't know poking around his delicate bits and pieces.

Luckily, Nurse Moseley was there, and she was the definition of “boss.” Nothing surprised the older woman. “I've seen some shit in my day, boy,” she had said the first time they met, when Dean expressed his worry about giving birth and all. “I can promise you, you ain't nothing new. That baby ain't nothing new. We got you, and we will keep you both safe. You hear me, Dean Winchester?” To this day, Dean was sure the woman was not only the best damn nurse in the world, but also very psychic. She refused to say how she knew his real name, refused to say if she knew anyone that Dean knew, and refused to discuss why Dean's last name was now Smith. “I don't give a damn if your last name is Smith or Wesson or whatever damn fool thing you go by. You're Dean Winchester, and you're having a baby.”

So Dean just accepted it. Missouri was there, appearing like a burlish angel to hold his hand and remind him that every thing was going to be just fine. “You'll be fine. You're baby will be fine. You know I will never lie to you.” And he did know it. Just knowing that Missouri somehow knew that he and _Malyshka_ would be okay made it all...bearable.

“Oh baby this one is gonna hurt,” Missouri said, wincing in sympathy. Dean barely had time to process her words before a contraction unlike any other tore through his belly. “I don't think Little Girl will be waiting for Pam. She's stuck in traffic, I believe.”

“Dammit,” Dean growled after the pain let up, feeling sweat bead on his brow.

“It'll be fine, sweet boy,” Missouri soothed, patting his hand. “Dr. Bradbury is here and she is amazing. She'll get you and your sweet little one set to right, I promise.”

“I am pretty damn awesome,” a spunky red head in a white coat, Star Wars print scrubs, with a pencil propped above her ear said, smirking as she walked into the room. “I'm Dr. Bradbury and I will be delivering your little bundle of joy.”

Dean groaned, gripping Missouri's hand with one of his, Cas's with the other.

“Now, Dean Smith,” Dr. Bradbury said, after double checking his name, “I've got all of Pam's notes on you. She says this is your first baby, you have an excellent coach,” she smiled at Cas, who looked proud, “and you like both Star Trek and Star Wars. I like you already, dude. Now, let's get this baby into the world!”

Dean had managed to keep from screaming through every contraction, though they were getting worse. “I'd let this one out, sweetheart,” Missouri said, all sympathy and quiet calm.

The contraction hit and Dean didn't try to hold this one in. He screamed like an alien was trying to burst out of his stomach...which it sort of felt like was happening. There was no time for an epidural – Baby Girl was too impatient to come into the world. Missouri gave him a shot of something to help take the edge off the pain, but it didn't help nearly enough.

The whole process, from the time he felt the first twinge of a contraction, to when he came into the ER, to Labor and Delivery, all the way til he pushed and screamed and cursed his way through the birth of his beautiful, amazing little girl, took less than an hour. She was born as the sunset on a lazy Sunday; the same day of the week he got to know his very best friend. She was five pounds, four ounces, and had the classic Winchester lungs.

“I think they heard her all the way down in cardio,” Missouri teased, cooing as she looked down at the perfect little bundle of dark hair pressed to Dean's chest.

“She is beautiful,” Castiel said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “And loud. But mostly beautiful.”

Dean was feeling...well, mostly dead, to be honest – but he was proud, and he was full of love beyond any other he had ever experienced. The closest he had felt to this was raising Sammy. Seeing that kid grow, become a sweet, sensitive man, had been the best thing in Dean's life until this moment. “Cas?” Dean asked, feeling suddenly full of nervous energy. “Could you...could you take a picture of me and the baby? With my phone? I want...I want to send it to Sammy.”

Cas nodded, looking so kind and understanding. “Of course Dean.” He took the photo, sending it to the number Dean had for Sam – he had tried to call it a few times over the years. It had always gone to voicemail, but at least it had been Sam's voicemail. He also sent it via Facebook message. Sam wasn't his friend on Facebook, despite Dean sending him a friend request; but he hadn't blocked Dean either. Dean thanked Cas, and looked down at the beautiful baby in his arms.

She looked like all the baby photos Dean had seen of himself. There was even a hint of Sam – that nose was not his, and definitely not Michael's. That was all Sam, with a bit of John thrown in. In fact, so far, only the very dark hair on her head seemed to be Michael's. The rest was pure Winchester. That jaw was all John. The cheekbones and the freckles were very Mary, very Dean. “Hi there Johnnie Girl,” Dean cooed, giving her a little kiss.

“So you went with Johanna Mary?” Missouri said, sounding oddly pleased.

“Johanna Mary Ellen Winchester,” Dean said, grinning. Johanna for his father, Mary for his mother, and Ellen for Bobby's wife; Dean's second mother.

“Your Daddy would have approved,” Missouri said, reaching up to brush a stray tear from her cheek. At Dean's curious look, she patted his cheek. “I'll tell you all about it when you bring that beautiful baby over to my place. I am gonna end up babysitting her, after all.”

“You're an angel, Missouri,” Dean said, grinning up at her.

“Me? I ain't no angel. Though you have had one at your side for quite some time.” Missouri gave Cas a significant sort of look, though Dean couldn't figure out why. Cas flushed, but kept his focus on the sleeping baby in Dean's arms.

* * *

“This is your home, _Malyshka_ ,” Cas said, carrying the sleeping baby in her car seat. Dean was holding his other arm, carefully making his way to his door. He was exhausted still, but glad to be home after his stay at the hospital. The house was cool, clean, and blessedly quiet after the constant hum of activity in the hospital. There was a sweet banner above the door in the living room - “Welcome Home Dean and Baby Johnnie!” care of Cas, no doubt. Someone had baked a pie – a quick look at it showed that it had come from Dr. Barnes; who was still very upset she had missed the birth. Dean would shoot a thank you text after while. The pie was apple, and smelled like heaven. The fridge was full – another Cas thing no doubt. 

“I am next door, though I sometimes feel I live here and visit my own home,” Cas continued his narration, sounding amused. “I have cat. His name is Crookshanks, after cat in Harry Potter. I will be reading you Harry Potter as bedtime story. Your Papa will be reading Star Wars novels, I am thinking.”

“Star Trek, too,” Dean countered. “I want her to be well rounded in her geekdom.”

“Of course,” Cas said dryly, giving Dean a smile. “I will be having baby monitor. I will be listening should you be needing someone to come and sing for you in night.”

“You can't sing,” Dean said in the same dry tone.

“I can sing. Not well, but I can sing,” Cas countered, taking Johnnie out of the car seat, settling her in her crib. “I am the one buying you all the teddy bears. I will be your favorite uncle.”

Dean rolled his eyes, smiling as Cas selected the softest, smallest teddy bear to cuddle next to the baby. “I'll have to take that out before I lay down.”

“I will take it out,” Cas said, giving Dean the look. “You will be laying down now. I turn on baby monitor. I sit with _Malyshka_ while you take deserved nap.”

Dean chuckled, leaning his head against Cas's shoulder. “You gonna tuck me in?”

“Of course,” Cas said in all seriousness. “Get changed, get into bed. I tuck you in.”

Dean smiled affectionately, lifting his head to kiss Cas's cheek. “Thank you.”

“Is my pleasure,” Cas said, giving Dean one of those beautifully earnest looks. “Go. Change and into bed. I will be in there shortly.”

Dean leaned down carefully, giving his beautiful baby a kiss on her sleeping brow. “Papa loves you Baby Girl.”

“Uncle loves you too, _Malyshka_ ,” Cas intoned, his hand warm on Dean's back. “Now Papa goes and lays down before Uncle has to pick him up and make him.”

“Promises promises, Cas,” Dean said, giving the man a saucy wink.

Cas's eyes darkened, his gaze dropping to Dean's toes and slowly inching up over his legs, his groin, his chest, til he looked Dean in the eye. The heat Dean saw in Castiel's eyes made him feel weak kneed and honestly shaken. “Do not tempt me. When you are well, I will make many promises, and deliver on all.”

Dean shivered, feeling his dick twitch with interest. The thought of finally having Castiel with him, inside of him, made him feel positively electric. Though he was still healing, he was pretty damn sure he could manage a blow job or twenty. With that thought cheering him, Dean went to his room to change into something light and comfortable.

He turned on his own baby monitor, smiling as he listened to Castiel speak to his baby in Russian. The language was one Dean had never been interested in until he met Cas, but he had taken to learning a few phrases here and there since. There was an odd melody to Russian, despite the fact it had sounded somewhat clunky until Dean paid it more attention. He loved listening to Cas speak in his native language, loved the way the odd sounds just rolled off his tongue.

Dean lay back in his own bed, surrounded by his own pillows. Dean sighed happily, turning his TV on low, smiling as he turned on whatever DVD was in the player. It was, of course, Dr. Sexy Season One Disc One. Cas had cleaned up and got his favorite show ready to watch. Cas was truly a Godsend.

A sexy, gorgeous, wet dream inspiring Godsend. One that was now standing in his door, looking like sex on two legs and every naughty wish Dean had ever thought up. “Baby Johnnie is sleeping comfortably,” Cas said, his voice low and soothing. “I am here to tuck you in.”

Dean grinned up at him, snaking his arms up around Cas's shoulders when the man leaned down. The kiss was slow and easy, making Dean want to both scream in frustration and sing in happiness. “Why don't you stay the night? Just...lay here with me. I would feel better.”

Cas licked his lips, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. “I am not knowing if I can be a “good boy” if I stay,” Cas said, adorably doing air quotes and all. “I am not thinking this is best idea.”

“It's the best idea I've had,” Dean growled, leaning up to bite Cas's lower lip. “Go next door, get some comfy clothes, bring that monster of a cat of yours, and come back.”

“Dean, we cannot be intimate,” Cas admonished, logical despite the flush of arousal in his cheeks. “You are healing.”

“My mouth isn't healing,” Dean growled, kissing Cas again.

Cas keened into the kiss, deepening the kiss. “This is true. You are...beautiful, Dean.”

Dean grinned, leaning back on his pillows. “I know. Now, go get clothes, cat, and get back here.”

“As you wish,” Cas said, smiling shyly before he made his way out the door.

Dean reached into his shorts, whimpering as he touched his pulsing and aching cock. Oh yeah, he was gonna suck Cas off and he was gonna come like crazy while he did it. There wasn't a better plan in the whole world. Dean shivered in anticipation, waiting for Cas to come back.

It was only minutes, but it seemed like hours. Crookshanks came running into the bedroom, hopping up onto the bed like he owned the place. He was careful to not land on Dean; something his still sore body was grateful for. Cas came in a moment later, still wearing his day clothes, though he had a bag of his night things and toiletries. Dean grinned up at him, ready and more than willing to take Cas's cock into his mouth in one big gulp.

The look on Cas's face stopped him though. He was nervous, yet hopeful. Excited even, though he also looked a bit...pained. “Dean, you are having company,” Cas said, sounding both full of regret and somehow happy all at once.

“Company?” Dean asked, scowling.

Someone came around Cas then – a giant of a man, with long hair framing a beloved, never forgotten face. Dean made an odd sort of sound – a half gasp, half laugh. “Dean,” Sam said, his voice tight. Sam looked good; damn good. He was bigger than Dean remembered – all muscles bound up in plaid and work jeans. He was carrying a diddy bag, his eyes wide with hope. “Dean.”

“Sammy,” Dean said, struggling to get out of bed. His body screamed in protest, but his heart urged him on. Cas was there in an instant, grabbing Dean's arm and helping him up. “Sammy,” he said again, reaching out to pull his mammoth little brother into a hug. “Sammy.”

“Dean,” Sam wept, hugging him ever so gently. “I'm so sorry, Dean.”

“I'm sorry too, Sammy,” Dean said, not caring about anything else in the world. Not about the tears going down his cheeks, not about the way his body screamed in pain from moving too quickly. Cas at his side, holding him up. Sammy was in his arms, holding him close. His baby was alive, sleeping peacefully one room over. The damn cat was rolling around the bed, perfectly at home.

|Dean was the happiest, luckiest fucker in the whole damn world.


End file.
